


Only a Dream

by voiceless_terror



Series: TMA Whumptober [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alt Prompt: Nightmares, Blood, Day 15, Gen, Injury, Jon is sort of sick here but it's not the focus, Visions, Whumptober 2020, spoilers up to season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27025453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: In his first week as Archivist, Jon has a nightmare that feels more like a vision. Tim tells him it’s nothing so Jon lets it be nothing.
Series: TMA Whumptober [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952800
Comments: 11
Kudos: 141





	Only a Dream

“You with me now boss?”

Jon blinks his eyes open, crusted as they are with sleep and tears. He does not understand where he is or where he came from, he only knows that something terrible has happened and it’s his fault. 

“I don’t...” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to gain clarity. “...Tim? Why are you- how did you get in here?” He is in his bedroom, safe and sound. It hurts to look at Tim, it reminds him of a loss he’s never had. How can you grieve for someone standing right in front of you?

“You called Martin,” Tim sits at the edge of his bed, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You don’t remember? You must have been really out of it. He was all worked up, said I had to check on you. Good thing I did- you left your door unlocked.” Why would he call Martin? Martin’s not his friend. Martin’s not even good enough at his job to be considered a colleague. He feels like a thousand lifetimes have passed since he left the office earlier that day and Tim looks more concerned as the silence grows between them; he leans over and places a hand to Jon’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs. “Have you taken anything for that?” Burning up. There was fire in his dream, a lot of it. And Tim- _Tim._ He grabs at the arm that retreats from his face and holds it.

“Tim,” he whispers desperately. “I think I...I had a bad dream.” The words feel childish on his tongue but they are true. “But I think...I think it was i-important?” He needs to tell someone, needs to spill out the words so he doesn’t forget. He needs a witness.

“Uh, alright,” Tim says and he sits back at the edge of the bed. _Good._ “D’you...want to talk about it?”

“Yes. Yes!” Jon croaks as he sits up in bed a little too eagerly, head spinning with feverish need. “Will you...are you listening?” It’s very important that Tim listens.

“Course, boss,” the smile is just to humor him, he knows this. Tim finds this amusing. “Now tell me all about it.”

“There was...there was a house.”

It was a house in the sense that it housed _something,_ but it was not an ordinary home and it was not for people. There was a tree in the yard, silhouetted against a perfect streak of lightning that was painted across the sky, frozen and wrong in every way. A woman hung from that tree, once. A stained metal plate on it’s siding reads _105._ He knocked at the door and it opened with an aching creak as if the house were moaning in pain. Jon saw something creep out of the corner of his eye.

“There were spiders everywhere. All over.”

“Spiders! Spooky. I know how you hate ‘em.”

Hate was an understatement. The house was full of shadows and he could only follow movement by their change in the light. There was a basement in this house but he wasn’t supposed to go in there. Not yet. Even though it called to him with answers spoken in his own voice. There was a hand at his arm, cold and unyielding and it led him in the right direction.

“It was Sasha, but it wasn’t. Not really.”

This Sasha was a blank canvas and a painted smile. She kept handing him statements, too many of them and they kept slipping through his fingers even though he knew they were important. His body was starting to ache like his bones were too much and not enough but she kept going and he kept walking, right into a dining room. The table was set but there was no food. Each plate held something incongruous- a bullet, a _rib,_ a worm- and only one person sat at the head of the table, a small remote-looking device on their plate. It was Tim.

“But you were full of holes-”

“Gross! Why would you ruin a pretty face like mine?”

“And you were so _angry.”_

“Doesn’t sound like me.”

This Tim had a hollow voice and a feral laugh. He was mouthing words that Jon was glad he couldn’t hear for they looked to be filled with a ferocity and hate he wouldn’t be able to bear. He was staring at Jon’s face but wasn’t looking him in the eyes. It was then that he caught his reflection in a mirror above Tim- he was full of holes too. Bleeding and unhealed, unlike Tim’s scars. And he looked so very sad.

The room was getting too warm so he stepped back, closing the door on Tim and it felt like an end, like if he reopened it Tim would be gone. There was a coldness coming from the stairs and he knew somehow that Martin was up there. So he walked and walked and it got colder and colder and Martin was there but Jon couldn’t find him. It was important that he spoke to Martin. But Martin didn’t want to see Jon.

“Now I _know_ this is a dream. Martin would never!”

So he kept going up and up and it hurt more and more but there was someone in the attic. Only it wasn’t an attic, it was a tower with too many windows and a warped floor. Elias was there, bathed in a green light and looking out the window but when Jon approached he turned to him. He had a gift and he placed it in his hands with a beatific smile. Told him he was doing a good job, and Jon smiled back.

He opened his hands and in his palms were two glowing, green eyes staring right back.

“That’s nasty. Where do you come up with these things?”

“I think I did something really, really bad, Tim.”

“Yeah, you did. You dreamed up this creepy little caper and you told me about it.”

“You don’t-” his mind struggles to find the words and he feels the dream slipping from him. He should have written it down or recorded it. “-you don’t get it.” Jon is tired and he feels himself slumping back down, teetering on the edge of consciousness. One week in the Archives and he’s already lost his mind. “What does it mean?”

He sees rather than feels Tim’s pat on his leg. “Stay put. I’ll grab some meds and you’ll be in la-la land momentarily. No scary dreams, I promise.” His tone is patronizing and Jon wants to scowl.

Tim leaves the room and Jon is alone. The clock on the wall ticks in a repeated, comforting manner that echoes in the silence. A spider creeps along the floor and he wants to yell at Tim to kill it but he can’t summon the energy. Best to let it be.

He asks Tim about the dream later that night but is waved off. “Just a run-of-the mill fever dream, don’t worry about it. Means nothing.”

Tomorrow he will come into work and stare at Martin and Sasha for a little too long. When Elias hands him a file he will flinch and Elias will stare. But his skin is smooth and he doesn’t hurt and the dream will fade to an itch and then to nothing.

You can’t live in nightmares, after all. Eventually you have to open your eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't think of what to do for Day 15, so I switched it out with an alt prompt: nightmares. Some of my creepiest work yet! Had some fun with this one. I don't do too many creepy things, but honestly that's what I feel most comfortable writing. The h/c and fluff is more self-indulgent and incidental (though I do love it!)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts! You can reach me @voiceless-terror on tumblr for asks/prompts. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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